


Did You Eat Yet?

by Kiekow



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-06 04:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11592714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiekow/pseuds/Kiekow
Summary: In which the reader, starving and shot, is rescued by her Defender of Justice.





	1. Chapter 1

No one suspected that the newest member of the RFA was absolutely, completely broke. That she had nothing to her name but a backpack with a few essentials, an old photo album, and 2000 won. Not even Seven, the hacker god of the group, could find much, if any, information on her. Just that she had a small family in the United States and that they didn't seem to like her all that much.

  
So when they all greeted her on the messenger day after day, asking her if she had eaten, they thought nothing of how she always said yes. It was the polite, "correct" response regardless. Through the security cameras in Rika's apartment, Seven was the only one who noticed that whatever little food she came home with, it was never in shopping bags. Instead, it was squirreled away inside her backpack and usually eaten on the floor as soon as she closed the door to the apartment. He noticed that it was never the same food, that sometimes it looked already half-eaten, that she sometimes grimaced while eating it as if she didn't like it. But every time, she ate every last crumb. It was rather familiar.

  
He offered to buy her food. She politely declined. He offered to give her some of his beloved Honey Buddha Chips. She said that they were too important to him to accept. He even offered to take her on a lunch date. She refused, saying that she didn't know him well enough yet.

  
She disappeared around the same time every day, leaving the apartment for hours at a time. Sometimes, she skipped back into her new home, smiling as she upended a backpack of food onto the dining table. Usually, she returned muddy, feet dragging on the floor as she devoured a handful of food from the backpack. Every once in a while, Seven could see the blood on her face as she limped inside the apartment, shucking the empty backpack away into a corner.

  
He tried calling her the first time, asking what had happened and if she needed to go to the hospital. He watched through the security cameras as she began pacing, a hand running through her dirty hair as she tried to convince him that she had just tripped and fell and it was no big deal, really. He watched as she searched the apartment for security cameras, finding most of them and taping them over. But she never found the one in the hallway.

  
It was through this camera that Seven watched as she left for another nightly adventure, torn black clothes on and an empty backpack. He waited, checking the camera every few minutes to see when she would return. Every time she left, he couldn't help but worry about her. What if she got hurt again? What if she got attacked by the hacker?

  
An hour passed. Then two. She should've been home by now. Maybe she was having a hard time finding what she was looking for. Seven wasn't an idiot. It was obvious she was stealing food. But what could he do? She'd denied every attempt he'd made to help her and V had forbidden him from visiting the apartment to confront her directly. He would put some money in her bank account if the only one she had could be used outside of the United States.

  
So he waited and watched the camera. Another hour passed, and another. Seven cursed himself for not installing security cameras around the building.

  
Finally, the front door creaked open. He bolted upright in his chair, completely focused on his monitor. He watched the door open slowly, much slower than it normally was.

Then she walked in. She was soaked to the bone and her clothes were caked in mud. She limped inside, a hand clutching her abdomen. She nudged the door shut behind her with her foot, slinging the empty backpack to the ground unceremoniously. Through his headphones, Seven could hear a groan as she collapsed against the wall, the hand she'd been holding her side with trying to support herself. Her legs gave out and she fell to the floor. The smeared handprint on the wall was red.

  
He'd never felt panic like that before. His heart hammered in his chest. His mouth was dry. The only thing he could think of was her. Bleeding. Hurt.  
Her.

  
He flew from his desk, knocking the chair over as he raced to his garage. To hell with what V said.


	2. Chapter 2

Seven raced up the stairs of the apartment building, occasionally glancing at the phone in his hand. At the camera feed. She had not moved an inch since he'd left his house.

He arrived at the landing to her floor, breathing heavily and cursing the out-of-order elevator. Without bothering to knock, he entered the password to the apartment and let himself in.

It looked even worse in real life.

Blood had pooled around her and the smear on the wall was starting to dry. She was shivering, her skin pale as snow. He kneeled down next to her, trying to ignore the cold seeping of her blood into his pants.

"_____? Hey! Can you hear me?" He shook her shoulder gently, trying not to hurt the woman further. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when her eyes slowly opened and fixed on his face. They were glossy. He could swear she was looking through him.

"...S-seven?" She bit out through the shivers, eyes wide in disbelief.

Seven began pulling out bandages from the first aid kit that he'd lifted from his car. "I'm here _____. What happened?" He hooked his arms under her shoulders to lift her into a seated position. "We need to take you to the hos-" She let out a sharp cry and he held her still. Seven looked through the cage of her fingers around her side and saw a jagged hole through her flesh, her jacket singed and torn. He could see the wall behind her through it.

He sucked in a shaky breath. He racked his brain for the correct way to dress the wound, feeling morbidly glad that he'd taken that first aid class back when he was in middle school. Seven almost felt grateful for all the times he had to patch up his brother. Almost. Not at all. He layered the bandage over both sides of the wound, cringing whenever he accidentally touched the injury and she cried out.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm almost done..." He whispered. It felt like speaking too loudly would hurt her even more.

The moment he had tied the bandages, she pushed a hand against his shoulder, trying to move him away. He scooted backward, hands still holding her shoulders. She turned away from him, trying to shrug his hands off, and vomited on the floor. Seven touched the cross around his neck when he saw that it was all blood. He muttered a prayer under his breath.

He had nothing to say about it, so he didn't even try. Instead, he picked her up as gently as he could, apologizing as the movement jostled her. He felt a wet warmth on his chest. She was already bleeding through the bandages.

Seven did his best to carry her down the stairs as smoothly and quickly as possible, vowing to make sure somehow that the elevator never broke again. Two floors down, he noticed that she had stopped crying out whenever he took a step down. He looked down at her, her eyes barely open.

"Hey! Stay awake, _____! Stay with me!"

Her eyes closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like my work, please consider:
> 
> Becoming a patron: https://www.patreon.com/Kiekow  
> Or buying me a cup of coffee: http://bit.ly/1P3qPtw
> 
> Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

**POV: Reader**

 

God, your head was pounding. Everything hurt. You fought to open your eyes, blinking back the drowsiness and the searing white lights. It wasn't just the lights, everything in the room was white. White walls, white ceiling, white bed, white paper gown... Red hair.

What the hell was this?

There was an IV stuck in your elbow. A monitor behind you beeped loudly in time with your heartbeat. The smell of antiseptic wasn't helping your headache. Your hand, numbed by the IV, was being held by a man in a black hoodie, laying precariously on your hospital bed and the plastic chair next to it at the same time. If you weren't in such pain, you could've laughed at how he was managing to sleep like that without falling to the floor. Why was Seven here anyway?

Oh. That's right.

You got shot.

You groaned, using your free hand to brush back your hair. You needed a shower. But first, you would have to explain what happened to your Defender of Justice. That, you dreaded. You knew how protective he was of you and you were certain you'd get your ear chewed off about not telling him that you were struggling or asking for help when you got hurt. Maybe if you pretended to go back to sleep, you could postpone that for a few hours.

Nope.

Your jostling woke him up, of course. You had to think fast. How could you keep him from scolding you? Maybe playing a little prank on him would work.

Before you could consider the consequences, you took your hand back from Seven's grip and tickled his side, feeling a sharp stab of pain when you leaned over to reach him. He barked a laugh and fell off of the bed and onto the floor. When he lifted his head to look at you, you had to bite back your own laughter at the surprised look on his face, his glasses just barely staying on his nose.

He leapt to his feet, holding your face in his hands as if he wasn't sure that you were real. From this angle, you could see the dried tracks of tears down his cheeks. Shit. Maybe it was mean to tickle him off of the bed.

At the very least, it was mean to make him cry in the first place.

You stammered out an apology. For waking him up. For making him fall off the hospital bed. For worrying him. But you couldn't bring yourself to apologize for not accepting his help in the first place. It was too strong a blow to what little selfish pride you had left.

As you gave apology after apology, you could see Seven becoming frustrated. The one thing that you couldn't apologize for was the only thing he was looking for. He leaned back, not removing his hands from your face. You could sense the argument coming like a storm over the horizon.

"What the hell, _____? What happened to you? Why didn't you call anyone? Why didn't you call  _me_?"

"I-I... Well..." You tried.

Seven was near shouting now. "Why didn't you let me help you? I'm not an idiot, I know that you were struggling to eat! You would rather steal than to let me help you? You'd rather get shot and almost..." Unable to finish the sentence, he groaned and released your face, running his hands through his hair before throwing them up in frustration. When he turned back to you, you could see the unshed tears in his eyes.

Shit.

You owed him a lot. The least of which was an explanation. Choking down that stubborn bit of pride, you tried summoning the words he needed to hear. "It was... I was stupid, okay? I'm sorry I didn't accept your help. I thought that..." Oh god, you were going to cry. "I thought that it would be better if I dealt with it myself." He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up a hand to stop him. "I know. But I was just... just stubborn and I didn't want you guys to know what issues I was dealing with and it's not like I didn't trust you or anything but it wasn't your problem-"

Seven cut off your rambling with a short laugh. He collapsed back into the chair next to your bed, smiling grimly at you. "That makes two of us, then."

"What?"

It took a moment before you realized. "Oh." You smiled at him. "Two stubborn people who try taking care of everything themselves."

The grin he gave you confirmed your answer.

You weren't sure what else to say. You opened your arms, gesturing Seven in for a hug. He sprang out of the chair, wrapping his arms gently, so gently, around you. His face was buried in your neck, breaths playing with your hair. You patted his back, hoping that he took it as a consoling gesture and not because you weren't sure what to do, not at all. You're the master of hugging. You know how to console people.

It was hard to hear, his voice muffled against your skin. The subtlest tightening of his arms around you and a whisper. "I'm so glad you're safe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like my work, please consider:
> 
> Becoming a patron: https://www.patreon.com/Kiekow  
> Or buying me a cup of coffee: http://bit.ly/1P3qPtw
> 
> Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my work, please consider:
> 
> Becoming a patron: https://www.patreon.com/Kiekow  
> Or buying me a cup of coffee: http://bit.ly/1P3qPtw
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
